


Impression: Instant

by AnonEhouse



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 09:11:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Art student Steve meets performing artist student Tony. It's the start of a beautiful friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impression: Instant

**Author's Note:**

> In Captain America the movie, Steve was short as well as scrawny prior to the treatment, but in the comic origin he was tall, just really skinny & had multiple chronic health problems. Tall worked better for this fic, even though it's meant to be movie-version characters.

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

High school is hell if you're not one of the 'in-crowd'. Steve's mom tried to comfort him by saying that the kids who spent all their time socializing wound up with minimum wage jobs instead of making a name for themselves. Yeah, sure, that might happen, but right now they were holding hands in the hall, and telling jokes in the lunchroom, and telling him to pass on notes about the parties they were inviting _everyone_ to, except him. It actually would have bothered him less if he was being bullied. Before they moved to Manhattan so he could attend this school, he'd learned how to take a punch and not let it hurt _him_ but being treated like...not a person... that hurt.

Graduating from the Fiorello LaGuardia High School of Music & Art and the Performing Arts would look good on a resume he supposed, but he really wished they'd come up with an acronym. FLaG MAPA? No, that just... no. If he'd started just a year ago it would have been slightly less confusing, back when the Performing Artists was a sister school at a separate address. He didn't really mind the actors and musicians, though. They competed among themselves and pretty much ignored _all_ the artists. And hey, he liked it that they encouraged student audiences so he could take his sketch pad and watch them rehearse whenever he had a free period.

Steve settled into a front row seat, and arranged his drawing materials on the chairs to either side. No one wanted to sit with him anyway. He supposed they thought his geekiness would rub off. Not that he was bitter, or anything like that. He was here to learn how to make a living with his art, not to go to parties and get wasted and spend the night... what did they say, oh, yeah, 'worshipping the porcelain god.' He was so skinny that one beer was all it took for him to make a fool of himself. And he didn't want to be like his father, anyway. He was going to get a good job in commercial art and help his mother out. She'd sacrificed a lot for him. She deserved better.

He put down a couple faint lines to block out the stage, a few swirls for the curtains at the end, then roughed in shadow masses around the group of students gathered mid-stage, scripts in hand. The teacher came in and started roll call. Steve heightened the contrast, using the edge of his thumbnail to sharpen a gradient. He looked up from the paper when the teacher's tone sharpened.

"Mr. Stark, were you not aware that you were to come prepared?"

The students shifted, parting like the Red Sea. Steve felt a momentary stab of sympathy for the kid being singled out. He was... heck, Steve didn't realize there was anyone that young attending classes here. He couldn't be more than fourteen, and that was being generous. Steve was skinny, but he was tall, this kid was _tiny_. But he didn't seem to realize that. He stood straight, shoulders back and head high, but it was nothing like military posture. It reminded Steve more than anything else of an alley cat sitting tall in the sun, confident and relaxed. "Yes, sir. I was told we would be trying out for parts in Romeo and Juliet."

"And you thought you could do that without a script?"

"Yes, sir. I know all the roles." He might have got away with that, Steve thought, but the smug little grin he added at the end would make any teacher want to take him down a peg.

"All the roles?" 

"All the roles, sir."

"Fine. Mr. Stark will now demonstrate his encyclopedic grasp by..." the teacher paused and flipped pages over in his script, "giving us his interpretation of Juliet's soliloquy."

Stark's grin widened. "Oh, we're going to go with traditional Elizabethan casting! Great." And then he looked down for an instant. When he looked up again, his eyes were wide and soft and full of desperate longing. 

"Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again..." Steve stopped sketching, pencil forgotten in mid-air. Stark's voice rose pure and high, never pausing, never rushing. He moved gracefully as a young girl. Steve could almost see the gown swirling around him, the vial in his hand. Steve's mouth opened. He felt that there wasn't enough air, that Stark gathered it all to him to fuel his fire. He absolutely blazed. And then Stark's eyes met his, and locked him in place, gazing so intently he felt there was nothing else, no one else in the whole world. He had no idea how long Stark kept talking, it seemed like forever.

"...Romeo, I come! This do I drink to thee." Stark tipped his head back, drinking from the invisible vial, and then sank down to the stage in a perfectly posed huddle at just the right angle to the spotlight so that his long lashes cast dramatic shadows across his cheekbones.

***

Steve hung around after the rehearsal. He was missing lunch, but he wasn't hungry, anyway. "Hey," he said when he finally edged his way over to where Stark was sitting on a tall stool, kicking his heels and joking with the other actors. Stark looked at him, eyebrows raised in inquiry. Steve felt stupid, but he was at least going to say something. "Um. I just wanted to say that you're really good. You know... you really are... like a movie star."

Stark grinned. "Hey, my first fan!" He hopped off the stool and went over to Steve. "And wow, you're a tall one. This is great. Come on, let's go have lunch."

"Don't you need to..." Steve looked around where other students were discussing assignments with the teacher.

"Nah, I just have to stand here and look pretty. I'm just an incredibly gifted faker. I'm Tony Stark and you are..."

"Oh, um. Steve Rogers. I'm in the Art school."

"Cool. Can I see?" Tony gestured at Steve's portfolio.

"Yeah. Sure."

Tony took the sketchpad and flipped through it rapidly, making little 'hmm' noises. "You're really good, too. And, oh, by the way, thanks for letting me use you as a focus. I like to look for someone... interesting... and, you know, do my thing for _them_."

"Um. You played Juliet for me?"

Tony handed Steve back his portfolio and looked at him _up through his eyelashes_. "Sure. You've got great bone structure. You'd make a fantastic Romeo." 

Steve stared at him. Tony's grin faded. "Unless, of course, you, you know..." Tony waved his hand in a gesture that maybe sort of meant something, but Steve couldn't figure out what. "No, no, really, I'm not hitting on you. Jesus, I don't know which of us is the jailbait, here. You're blushing!" Tony's grin was back in full force. "That's really amazingly attractive, you know? You get a lot of girls with that?"

Steve found his tongue. "Tony. Do you ever _listen_ to yourself?"

"Nah. I have better things to do." Tony grabbed Steve's sleeve. "C'mon, let's butt into the lunch line. You hit 'em high, I'll hit 'em low, they won't stand a chance."

Totally bemused, Steve followed Tony. This must be what people mean when they talk about 'magnetism', he thought.

***

Steve was pretty sure it was against the rules to sit on the cafeteria tables, but no one stopped Tony when he declared, "Hey, I need a better view of my friend Steve," and just plumped himself down on the end of the table, swinging his legs while he talked to Steve in between bites. "You know, it's weird how much I like this school." Tony was looking directly at Steve when he said that, and Steve wasn't sure whether there was a hidden meaning to that or not. He concentrated on his sloppy joe, just in case.

"I mean," Tony went on, obviously not needing encouragement, "I'm not used to feeling like I belong where I am."

Steve shook his head. "I can't imagine you not ... you know, not being the life of the party anywhere you go. You've got... charisma." And then Steve felt like a total dork. Even admitting you knew a word like 'charisma' would get you mocked, but actually telling someone they have it... He wanted to pound his head on the table.

Tony laughed. Well, actually, it was more like a giggle. "I have _got_ to keep you. You are fantastic for my poor, pathetic, underfed ego. Listen, speaking of parties, I've been invited to some boring gig tonight. Would you like to come? Or just, you know, hang out somewhere? I could buy you an egg cream. You look like a guy who could appreciate a good egg cream."

"Um. Yeah. I mean. I like egg creams. And I'd like to go to a party. Or... whatever." God, he sounded like a complete idiot. But Tony was still grinning at him like Steve was just the most perfect Christmas present ever, so maybe Tony liked idiots. "Um. What kind of a party? I don't... really have any fancy clothes."

"Oh, hey, no problem. I know a guy, he's just about your size. I'll get him to lend me something for you. What color do you like...no, never mind, I've got it, blue, you'd look great in blue! I've gotta go now. I'll meet you at the main hall at three!" Tony dropped his tray to the table even though all he'd done was drink the chocolate milk and eat the brownie. He hopped off the table, grinned one last grin at Steve and pushed the tray over to him. "Be a pal and finish that for me, would you? They yell at me for wasting." And then he was gone.

Steve blinked, unsure exactly what had happened. Did he have a date? He'd have to call mom and let her know. He had a feeling that once he got caught up in Tony's wake again there wouldn't be a moment to even remember he had a mother, let alone call her.

***

Promptly at three o'clock-- well, actually, Steve had _cut a class short_ and arrived at quarter til-- Steve was sitting on a bench near the main entrance, pretending to be deeply, sincerely, involved in sketching the contents of a trophy case. He didn't really think Tony was mean-spirited enough to deliberately set him up to wait and not show up, but he could very easily forget. After all, Steve wasn't anybody particularly memorable and Tony was ...well, air-headed seemed not only unkind, but inaccurate. Tony was brilliant, just... flighty. So he'd sit and sketch until three-thirty and then go take the bus home without having been embarrassed. That was a good plan, he thought. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a plastic dry cleaners' bag full of clothes thumped down onto the bench next to him and Tony flopped down on his other side.

"Hey! Long day, I never thought I'd get out of there! What'cha doin'... oh, trophies... you like still life? Portraits are more fun, don't you think? Wouldn't you like to draw my portrait? In costume? I bet I could get them to print it in the playbill, put your name on it, maybe get you some commissions? You might not think it, but actors are incredibly narcissistic."

When Tony stopped talking, Steve found himself swaying toward him as if a wall had been pulled away. "Sure. I'd be glad to do your portrait." Steve was relieved that Tony had said, 'in costume' as he wouldn't put it past Tony to demand a nude. "Costume? So, you've got a role in the play?"

Tony gave him an eye-roll that said 'duh, of course' more clearly than any words. "Yes! It's going to be great. They're letting me play Juliet! I'm too short for any of the other good roles, so this is perfect."

"Oh. Ok." Steve visualized Tony in a Juliet costume and his mind went blank. He was getting used to Tony having that effect on him and it was bothering him less and less. He turned his attention to the bag instead. "You already got your friend to lend the clothes?"

"Sure. Hey, let's go to one of the dressing rooms and you can try them on." Tony grinned as Steve gave him a stern look. "I promise I won't peek before you're all prettied up."

***

"Nice," Tony said in approval as Steve turned slowly before the right-angled mirrors. Steve was astonished by how good the suit looked on him. The broad blue check pattern and wide cuffs made him look more solid. It didn't have pleats and wasn't baggy, yet it fit his leg length perfectly. The belt was a blue so dark it looked black, a bit wider than normal, but not enough to look like a rodeo rider's belt. Tony leaned in close, holding a dark blue silk tie patterned with tiny red and white diamonds. "You know how to tie a Windsor knot? No, wait, let me just do it, it'll save time." Tony hummed happily as he put the tie on, and adjusted it to his satisfaction. His breath was warm on Steve's throat, and smelled like peppermint.

Steve found himself swallowing hard.

"Not too tight?"

"No, no, it's fine," Steve said. "Ah, Tony, how fancy is this party?"

"Oh, yeah, well, it's sort of a business party. My father wanted me to come, _if_ I could bring a presentable date." Tony scowled. "Well, you're a hell of a lot better than presentable. You'll even make ME look respectable." Tony tilted his head and looked in the mirror at Steve and then himself. Tony was wearing a faded t-shirt for some heavy metal band Steve had never heard of and his jeans had a wide swath of greasepaint down one leg. "Respectable-ish."

Steve frowned. "So you want me to come with you because I'm a dork."

Tony threw his hands up in the air. "No! I did not say or think anything like that! You are not a dork. I think you're a great guy, and your company would make an otherwise miserable evening fun."

"Oh, ok." Embarrassed, Steve stuck his hands in his pockets. He felt a piece of paper and pulled it out. It was a bill of sale from 'Alto- Custom Tailoring for Tall Men' and it had today's date on it. And the price... "What is THIS? Did you go out and buy a custom-fitted suit for me?"

"No, no, of course not!" Tony backed up, looking nervous. "There wasn't time, and they'd need your measurements. This was... just... an off-the-rack that... happened to catch my eye?" Tony's hands were going a mile a minute in obscure gestures. "I'm not... I wasn't trying to buy your friendship or anything like that, but I knew you'd be unhappy at the party unless you had a nice suit, and really, it DOES look great on you, and I'm glad I got to see you in it, and if you're going to hit me, could you not aim at the face, because a black eye's a bitch to cover up." Tony squinted his eyes shut and went still.

"I AM NOT going to hit you! What do you think I am! I hate bullies!"

Tony opened one eye. "So, are we on for the party?" Tony looked so hopeful that Steve's anger just evaporated.

"Fine. We're on. But don't buy me anything again."

"Nothing?" Tony looked disappointed. "Not even an egg cream?"

"All right, an egg cream's ok."

"Hot dog and pretzel at a ball game?" Tony grinned at him.

"Tony."

"C'mon, what's the point of having money if you can't make someone happy with it? You do like the suit, don't you? You look FANTASTIC in it."

"I like the suit." Steve ran a hand through his hair. "But you know, my mom works hard to keep us out of the poorhouse, and you have to see how it would look to her if you're buying me all sorts of expensive presents."

Tony's eyes widened. "She might think _I_ was keeping you! Oh, wow. Hey, listen, could you hold that thought until I'm legal? Because I would just _love_ to keep you!"

"One more word, Tony, and you go to the party by yourself."

Tony shut his mouth with an audible click as his teeth met. Steve sighed and then he reached out to ruffle Tony's hair. "You are not ever, ever going to be keeping me. But maybe I'll keep you."

Tony grinned and gave Steve a thumbs' up. 

As they walked out of the building with Steve's arm around Tony's shoulder, Steve thought maybe high school wasn't all that bad, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> As part of my nefarious plan to attempt as many different fanfic genres/tropes for Iron Man as I can I decided to try a high school AU for Tony and Steve. I sifted through my random collection of googled bits hoping to find a spark. When I re-read an interview excerpt where Chris Evans (Steve Rogers) expressed his sincere (FANBOI) admiration for Robert Downey Jr.'s (Tony Stark) charisma, persona, etc. I said, YAY, acting school! So then I googled for the school of the Performing Arts in NYC (Fame, the movie & Fame, the TV series were based on it) and discovered to my utter joy that it eventually merged with a music and art school so Artist Steve and Actor Tony could very naturally meet! YAY, squared. I love it when a plan comes together.


End file.
